


The Hollow Man

by SwordsAndSoftWords



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, M/M, Sort Of, Suicidal Thoughts, don't worry no one actually dies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:16:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27683420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SwordsAndSoftWords/pseuds/SwordsAndSoftWords
Summary: I don’t know what this is. TS Eliot’s The Hollow Men meets Lambert mourning over Aiden (with a sort of hopeful ending because I cannot tolerate anything less).
Relationships: Aiden/Lambert (The Witcher)
Kudos: 7





	The Hollow Man

**Author's Note:**

> Ok so this is my first fanfiction in like... ever! I'm quarantined and somehow got emotionally attached to this absolute ratman of a Witcher. And in the middle of that, accidentally read some TS Eliot so, really, I can't blame anyone but myself.  
> English isn't my first language. Neither are fanfiction or poetry. If you spot any typos, let me know.

He had heard their pleading voices, felt their blood soak into his skin, burned their houses to the ground. Justice done, he guessed. Still, every step forward was agony, every corner rounded brought with it the hope of green eyes and an easy smile. He knew, logically, that living like this would bring about only tragedy. But there was nothing to live for. There was good in his life for once, and it was taken from him like so many other things had – with brutal efficiency, leaving ash in its wake.

_Shape without form, shade without colour,_

_Paralysed force, gesture without motion_

The spring had come and gone, and summer was steadily burning itself away. Soon, he thought, soon I’ll turn around. For now, though, for now he kept pushing forward, on feet of broken ruins and ash in his mouth.

_Those who have crossed_

_With direct eyes, to death’s other Kingdom_

_Remember us—if at all—not as lost_

_Violent souls, but only_

_As the hollow men_

There was a man, staring at him from across the street. His eyes burning violent green, but his hair was the wrong colour; his clothes were the wrong cloth; his gaze came from the wrong height; the callous in his hands from something other than decades of wielding swords. There wasn’t an easy smile on his face either, but the disdain humans could afford only to those they perceived as different. He considered, for one moment, to accost him and see if there was a fight worth having in there. But he didn’t care enough. So he turned around and kept walking, broken glass and frozen fire in his path.

_Eyes I dare not meet in dreams_

_In death’s dream kingdom_

_These do not appear:_

_There, the eyes are_

_Sunlight on a broken column_

The town he was passing through was barely a town at all. There was a small cluster of houses, a few children running around, some women whispering from doorways. There was dust in his mouth. The women looked at him like a wretched thing, a hollow man, soulless, emptied out by grief. There was nothing left. There was no revenge to guide him anymore, no hope in his heart. He walked on, and on. He kept walking. He did not know where he was going anymore, only that walking was the only thing he could do.

_Is it like this_

_In death’s other kingdom_

_Waking alone_

_At the hour when we are_

_Trembling with tenderness_

_Lips that would kiss_

_Form prayers to broken stone._

He arrived unexpectedly. He recognised the houses too late, saw a familiar man who greeted him with a cautious smile. Here, where it all started. Here, where it all must end.

_In this last of meeting places_

_We grope together_

_And avoid speech_

_Gathered on this beach of the tumid river_

There was a contract for something, he had not paid enough attention. He didn’t remember when last he had slept, or when he had eaten anything. Would it matter anyway?

_Between the idea_

_And the reality_

_Between the motion_

_And the act_

_Falls the Shadow_

There was pain in his arm as he shoved his sword into the beast’s chest. With a dying cry, it threw him back and he felt something break, a deafening crack in his ear. He found himself sympathising with the creature. Would he too not be angry at death taking him from the world, once upon a time?

_Between the conception_

_And the creation_

_Between the emotion_

_And the response_

_Falls the Shadow_

There was the blue sky and a gentle breeze, annunciating the fall. The leaves still so green. So green. A sigh and he closed his eyes. No more pain. No more.

_This is the way the world ends_

_This is the way the world ends_

_This is the way the world ends_

_Not with a bang…_

There was a sound, not the breeze but something constant, something louder. He couldn’t open his eyes, but there was warmth on the side of his face and a burning in his throat. There was a plead in the wind, he could hear it. A distant part of himself recognised the voice in the mist, knew he should answer to it. With an effort he opened his eyes at last. Visions of the past swam in front of him. Green, such green. The right kind even, he thought. One breath, and one more. For this, he would try. One breath, and one more. The hands on his skin became less frantic as his heart restarted. Pumping living blood for the first time in months.

Let death not be deceiving me, he thought. For this man, maybe, he would be willing to try.

One breath, and one more.

_… but with a whimper._


End file.
